Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“Just a minute more; I’m nearly done now, that’s good, the light’s just perfect, okay, beautiful, I think that’s it Nick, you’ve been great, relax a minute while I put this stuff away. I’m just going to check that we’ve got all the poses covered before you get dressed.”
I watched as he relaxed out of the difficult position, slumping face forward slightly into my mattress. Reluctantly I packed the sketchbook and pencils away onto my cluttered workbench thinking about how much I was going to miss him. It was little consolation that at least I would have the drawings and a few photographs to enjoy at my leisure.
Finding suitable and experienced life models had become harder for me over the last year or so. To the point of being nearly impossible. A man with a truly beautiful physique who could actually take direction and hold still for any length of time was a rare find indeed. Call me picky, but I was an artist in search of a very particular look, you know the finely honed, well-muscled flexible man, a man with a body that had definition and strength. I know that it all sounds very clinical but that’s how it started. Nick was just a very beautiful body, the real life embodiment of the kind of man I’d imagined populating my paintings. My ideal fantasy man if you like.
The enthusiastic recommendation of a trusted author friend had led Nick to me. Nick worked as a freelance writer and enjoyably filled his down time between projects with a little life modeling. He’d surprised and delighted me with his knowledge of art and his passion and enthusiasm for life when we’d talked about his writing at our first meeting.
To be completely honest though, the clincher for me had been when I’d spotted a particular photograph in his portfolio. A sexy, warm shot of him laying naked, facedown on a bed, a classic “waiting” pose and my favourite view of a man. In the photograph his leg was a little bent, his knee drawn up, raising his ass slightly. I liked to think that maybe his erection had necessitated the position. I envied the person who took that shot and wanted to ask him about it. I kept my curiosity in check and my questions to myself.
I generally sketched quickly, but this time I’d needed four, one and a half-hour sessions with him before I was satisfied. Well that’s not entirely true; in fact, it’s a downright lie. While I was more than happy with the two big sketchbooks I’d filled with drawings, detailed sensitive sketches that captured his grace and strength, I was far from personally satisfied. In fact, I’d never felt more unsatisfied in my whole life. To be frank, my whole body ached with the want of him. A delicious heavy kind of ache that centred itself way down low in my pussy.
This last evening session was the most difficult for me, technically and emotionally. I had asked him to lay face down, much as he had been in the photograph, on the big bed that had become the centrepiece of my studio a year ago when I had started my Men in Love Series painting series. I loved that bed. The antique headboard was a decadent, ornate piece, a weathered nickel plate affair that provided a beautifully decorative background for my model. It had been an irresistible junk shop find that had taken two men to carry up to my studio. Occasionally when I couldn’t sleep, I’d grasp the cool metal of that headboard; my arms outstretched above my head and let my imagination take me all sorts of wild places. I’d think up delicious scenes that only served to keep me awake…
At this moment, Nick was the only person I could think about. He lay with the delicious firm curve of his buttocks central to the pose, the low light casting deep shadows, creating sharp contrasts against the warmth of his skin. The bedding was delightfully rumpled into a thousand complex creases adding texture and contrast around his beautiful smooth body. Oh those suggestively rumpled sheets had me hot every time I looked at them, even if they were going to be hell to paint when the time came. They spoke in no uncertain terms of sex; vital, vigorous, physical sex.
Ironically I had created a clever illusion for the only sex those sheets had seen recently was of the solo kind. After the last time Nick had been here in my studio home, posing on that very bed, driving me crazy with that beautiful body, I’d had to take things in to my own hands literally. With the image of his handsome sweet face and that dangerous body firmly in my head, I’d pulled my skirt up and thrust my fingers into my wetness, desperate to relieve the delicious ache that had distracted me all afternoon. I lay exactly where his body had been; turning over I had nuzzled my face down into the sheets, my lips and nose seeking some tiny trace of him.
I lay on my belly, hand trapped in my panties picturing myself under his body, his thick cock thrusting deep inside me from behind. Moans and lewd, wet sounds would fill the room. It would be one of those long slow fucks, a maddening “keep me on the edge” kind of fucks that would have me arching back begging for more, Kayseri Escort grinding my ass against his body. He’d be crazy with desire for me, breathing hard, holding my hips very tightly, pushing hard into my wet pussy until he too would be overwhelmed by the pleasure of it.
Over and over, my fingers had rubbed at my swollen clit, imagining that they were his. I’d slicked the creamy juice over that tiny hard bump of flesh, pushing my ass up, offering myself up to my pretend lover, rubbing faster and faster until there had been no stopping, no going back, just a rush of pure exquisite pleasure.
Now as I stood a little way away from the bed, drinking in the beauty of him, I absentmindedly wondered if he could perhaps smell the scent of me on those sheets.
“I’ll have a look at the book in case we’ve missed any poses, I like to have more than I need, it’s a bit hard to know at this stage which ones I’ll use for sure.”
“I’m fine here Ell. More than fine. In fact I think I’m getting quite used to this bed. Do what you have to do.”
I couldn’t help but think that if I did what I truly “had” to do, he’d be spending a lot more time in my bed and not just face down on it either!
“Not much longer now, then we’ll finish up Nick.”
I hated those words. I felt sad and disappointed that our time together was at an end. Our sessions had been completed in just a two-week timeframe. Two weeks, that’s as long as I’d known him, but somehow he’d become part of my life. As unprofessional as it is sounds, you don’t inhabit a room for six hours with a divinely naked man and just walk away unaffected, it’s just not possible. We had a relationship for God’s sake! An unusual one I’ll admit, but a relationship nevertheless. I didn’t usually feel this way about my models. There was something about Nick that drew me to him like a magnet. It was a heady combination of pure animal lust and a genuine fondness for him. Oh, I was fond of him, very, very fond…
I’d spent six very pleasurable hours becoming intimately acquainted with every muscle, sinew, crevice, and curve of this man. I’d studied every wrinkle, curl, crease, and dimple of him. The very nature of his flesh had been indelibly drawn in my brain. I knew his body so well that I felt that I could have confidently described the exact position of each of his vital organs. It sounds ridiculous but a trained artist doesn’t just see the surface, we’re taught to look deeper, and of course I’d observed him as an artist first and foremost and as a woman second… well, most of the time anyway.
We’d enjoyed our talks when silence hadn’t been critical, laughed and chatted as if it were the most natural thing – a fully clothed woman – a stranger really, and her naked muse. In the end we’d had to avoid topics of conversation that made us laugh too much, I needed him to be still. Now I just needed him. The time I was dreading was inevitably drawing nearer, the time when Nick would get up from my bed, casually slip into his clothes and leave my studio again, probably forever.
Perhaps I could convince my agent to engage him to attend the exhibition opening planned for sometime early in the New Year. It’d be fun to watch the surprised reactions of the female patrons at my exhibition, as they realised they were standing next to the beautiful man who inhabited my paintings. My publicist and the media folk would love it. “The Artist and Her Muse” would caption the newspaper society photos. I’d put Nick and his gorgeous face and irresistible body to good use, assigning him to champagne and flattery duties with the toughest female critics in the room. They wouldn’t stand a chance against his charm. The only problem with all of that was the fact that we were talking about an event scheduled for five months away. I wasn’t going survive until then. I wanted him now, urgently.
I flicked through my painting notebook, carefully pretending to check that we’d literally covered all angles. He lay a little awkwardly not moving, awaiting the next direction. He was so good, so still and patient, the perfect model in every way.
“Relax sweetie, we don’t want you getting stiff, do we?”
Fuck! I couldn’t believe that I’d said that, my face burned with embarrassment. The words just escaped out of my mouth via my pussy, kind of bypassing my brain.
Nick chuckled, muffling the sound into the bedclothes. I could see his shoulders shaking with mirth as he tried to contain his amusement. To complete my embarrassment, he lifted his head, turning to look at me, eyebrows raised and a broad smile playing on his face.
“Sorry Ella, what was that, I didn’t quite catch it?”
Turning away from him under the pretence of picking up a fallen pencil, I mumbled to cover my gaffe, “Um…j-just make yourself comfortable.”
For all of our sessions I’d struggled to remain the consummate professional, the detached artist only interested in his anatomy in its purest sense. I’d been careful not to touch him unnecessarily in setting Kayseri Escort Bayan up the poses. I’d directed him carefully with my voice and the clever man seemed to know or sense the look I was after. Just once or twice I found myself thinking, please misunderstand my instruction, let me touch you, let me need to touch you, let me have to touch you.
There’d been the occasional contact of course to refine a precise pose or whenever a subtle readjustment was required. A finger laid on the sweet curve of a shoulder, a divine moment when I had shifted his heavy leg and nudged it up in to a tighter, more pleasing bend. One time, I think it was in our second session, I’d tilted his lovely face with my finger, barely brushing his chin, touching his cheek longer than strictly necessary. Letting someone touch your face has always seemed to me to be such an intimate gesture. Something reserved for people you trust. I felt close to him that day, I remember now that it was the day I’d started to want him.
“We’ll be through in just a minute and you can get dressed Nick.”
Who was I kidding? I didn’t want him to go anywhere, ever. I’d spent the last hour squeezing my thighs together hard, unsuccessfully trying to quell and contain the ache growing in my naked pussy. Every time I moved, the soft fabric of my skirt brushed against me, skimming across my pubic hair, igniting the sensitive flesh between my thighs again. The skirt was one that begged to be worn without panties. The slinky soft fabric caressed my naked ass, thighs, and legs all day as I worked at my paintings. It swirled and curled about my legs as I went about my life. It seemed such a foolish impractical thing to wear while painting but the sheer sensuousness of it drew me to it regularly. In my mind, it had become my “come fuck me skirt.” I felt horny every time I wore it. Never more than now.
I knew I was stalling, watching him, there face down on my bed, with one leg bent to raise his groin from the mattress, his beautiful ass in the air. What I really wanted was to strip naked and bury my face between those cheeks, inhale him into my body, lick and taste every inch of him. I wanted to lean right over that smooth back and trace my soft breasts and painfully hard nipples across those muscles that I knew so well. I wanted to grind my pussy against his warm flesh and feel him deep inside me. I convinced myself, in that moment, that there was a serious gap in my knowledge of him, one that I needed to fill. Desperately. Immediately. I summoned my courage.
My heart beat fast in my chest and it was all I could do to keep my breathing steady as I knelt on the bed beside him, my weight causing him to nudge just the tiniest bit towards me. He kept his head buried in his arm. I think that for a moment he believed that I was just arranging him for another sketch. Tentatively I traced the sweet curve of his ass cheek, the little crease where cheek meets thigh. Oh, I loved these places on a man and on this one especially. I’d been looking at him for days, not touching, denying myself the pleasure.
I palmed the weight of his buttock enjoying the firmness and resilience of the warm flesh in my hand. He uttered a little moan into the fold of his arm; still he didn’t look up. My fingers explored his ass almost of their own volition. Around each cheek they went, tracing the divide between them, dipping and seeking that hidden, soft secret flesh. I felt his body push back against my fingers, offering himself to me, and at the same time, asking for more. I happily obliged him, softly stroking and pressing the deliciously sensitive skin of his anus. Not a word was spoken, the only sounds, the little moans that escaped from him, my own ragged breathing and the faint music in the distance from out in the street below. I leaned close to him, speaking softly, letting my breath play over his neck and ear. He smelt so good, a fine male smell that made my pulse jump.
“Nick… I think we may have missed a pose, um…a detail really, but I’m going to need it if I want to use those front-on poses we did the other day. Do you think you could roll over for me, that’s right on to your back, yeah that’s good, just like that.”
I knew that strictly speaking, it probably wasn’t right to do this with him, a man in my employ, my model, but I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t help myself. I was completely without scruples. Ever noticed how lust has a way of making just about anything justifiable? He looked at me then, straight in to my eyes, his own filled with a questioning look. He must have seen my desire for him, read it plainly there in my face. My cheeks felt pink with excitement. Nick smiled at me, a beautiful warm smile that said he understood my need. That smiling mouth of his was irresistible. God how I loved those lips, soft, smooth sensuous lips. Lips that demanded to be kiss, sucked, nibbled, and tasted. I wanted to swallow this man.
He saw me staring at his sweet mouth and teasingly opened his lips a little, letting me Escort Kayseri catch a glimpse of the pink tongue that lurked there. Oh, he was bad. He was perfectly wicked. He must have known how I wanted that tongue, wanted it in my mouth, wanted to feel it on my neck, licking over my breasts, leaving a wet trail down over my soft belly, to lap at the salty wetness between my legs. I leaned close to him, my face brushing gently against the roughness of his cheek. My lips hovered over his, not touching, just inhaling his breath. I kept absolutely still, wanting him to kiss me first. I needed to know that he wanted this to happen. He stretched upward until his warm soft lips were on mine.
“I want you Ella.” He spoke the sweetest words in the world directly into my mouth. He trapped those words, sealing my mouth with his lips lest they try to escape; there was little risk of that; I swallowed them down hungrily. He licked at my mouth making me crazy.
“Tell me again Nick,” my breath coming in little gasps.
“I want you, all of you.”
I heard a little moan escape from my mouth as his words registered a delicious pull of desire in my pussy. I felt that I was going to come just from kissing him, my pussy flooding with juice at the thought. Breathing hard, I tried to regain some semblance of control. I moved to a safer distance, a little way from his mouth, as I tried as best that I could to resume my artist persona, if only momentarily.
Smiling at him, I quietly cajoled him, “Let’s move this leg up a little more, open up this area around your pretty cock so I can see you.”
Nick groaned a little and his cock twitched to attention when I mentioned it. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. It was like I was talking to that beautiful half-hard cock nestled between his thighs and it was listening to me and responding. Does that sound crazy? I watched fascinated as it came to life, becoming more engorged, the thick blue veins and arteries doing their job, his balls drawing up close to his body. The position of his leg cast a slight shadow over his cock and my greedy eyes were not satisfied.
“I’d like to see more of you, there’s no need to be shy, you know I’ve seen just about every inch of you these last few days, move your leg over a bit. Oh sweetie that’s just fine, maybe a bit more, why don’t you open up your legs for me a little wider?”
“Like this Ell?” He asked, smiling and keeping his eyes on mine as he shifted his muscular thigh, revealing himself to me.
I swallowed at the sight of him, the more I spoke, the harder he got.
“Nick, how am I ever going to paint you, all of you without seeing you up close? You don’t mind if I do that do you? You’re so beautiful.” I had my head down close to his hard cock as if inspecting the detail of his flesh. I wanted my lips to be on that cock, to taste him, suck him, lick and devour him.
I was surprised and a little confused when he covered his groin coyly with his widespread hands, effectively blocking my view. I felt cheated and anxious for a moment, thinking that maybe I’d shocked him with my forwardness? That was, until I looked up and saw that cheeky boy grin on his face.
“I think it’s about time I saw you naked Ella. Seems to me like I’ve got about six hours of viewing to catch up on, if I’m not mistaken. You can see me up close when your clothes are off, all off. That’s the deal sweetie.”
I blushed thinking that he must have been aware of my desire for him all along. I was nothing if not transparent, totally and completely see through. I’d never been much good at the mysterious woman thing, I was more obvious than that. I considered myself a straightforward person with a big appetite for life.
“I’d like to see you, I want to see your body Ella.”
His words sent a shot of pure pleasure through me, making my breathing do funny things.
“Jesus Nick, if I get naked, I’ll want more than just to look at you.”
I certainly had no false modesty about my body; it functioned and gave me great pleasure. I’d modeled naked for plenty of life drawing classes and mostly, my soft curves seemed to please artists and lovers alike. They certainly pleased me.
I loved my full round breasts decorated with pretty sensitive nipples of deepest rose, the soft belly that led to a vee of dark curls and the fleshy pink pussy that nestled there between my slim thighs. I’d even taken to shaving those pussy lips smooth just so I could enjoy and feel the look of them. I liked the way they peeped out almost obscenely, making their presence known, amongst the curls that surrounded them.
Kneeling up in front of him, I slowly peeled my T-shirt up, hesitating for just a moment as my arms brushed against the softness of my nearly naked breasts. I enjoyed the way he watched me so intently, desire in his eyes, it almost made me feel as though I was performing for him. The performance game was one I especially loved to play.
With a slow pull upward, I shed the shirt. Knowing that Nick could clearly see my hard nipples through the sheerness of my pretty bra, I couldn’t resist bringing up my hands to gently squeeze the sensitive tips, bringing them to even stiffer peaks. Nick’s eyes opened wider in appreciation of the gesture, his hand gripping the hard cock he’d been hiding from me.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32